nifred about," he said, "to let him take her pearls?" Emily
perceived the crisis past.

"She can have mine," she said comfortably. "I never wear them. She'd
better get a divorce."

"There you go!" said James. "Divorce! We've never had a divorce in the
family. Where's Soames?"

"He'll be in directly."

"No, he won't," said James, almost fiercely; "he's at the funeral. You
think I know nothing."

"Well," said Emily with calm, "you shouldn't get into such fusses when
we tell you things." And plumping up his cushions, and putting the sal
volatile beside him, she left the room.

But James sat there seeing visions--of Winifred in the Divorce Court,
and the family name in the papers; of the earth falling on Roger's
coffin; of Val taking after his father; of the pearls he had paid for
and would never see again; of money back at four per cent., and the
country going to the dogs; and, as the afternoon wore into evening,
and tea-time passed, and dinnertime, those visions became more and more
mixed and menacing--of being told nothing, till he had nothing left of
all his wealth, and they told him nothing of it. Where was Soames? Why
didn't he come in?... His hand grasped the glass of negus, he raised it
to drink, and saw his son standing there looking at him. A little sigh
of relief escaped his lips, and putting the glass down, he said:

"There you are! Dartie's gone to Buenos Aires."

Soames nodded. "That's all right," he said; "good riddance."

A wave of assuagement passed over James' brain. Soames knew. Soames was
the only one of them all who had sense. Why couldn't he come and live at
home? He had no son of his own. And he said plaintively:

"At my age I get nervous. I wish you were more at home, my boy."

Again Soames nodded; the mask of his countenance betrayed no
understanding, but he went closer, and as if by accident touched his
father's shoulder.

"They sent their love to you at Timothy's," he said. "It went off all
right. I've been to see Winifred. I'm going to take steps." And he
thought: 'Yes, and you mustn't hear of them.'

James looked up; his long white whiskers quivered, his thin throat
between the points of his collar looked very gristly and naked.

"I've been very poorly all day," he said; "they never tell me anything."

Soames' heart twitched.

"Well, it's all right. There's nothing to worry about. Will you come up
now?" and he put his hand under his father's arm.

James obediently and tremul